Novice Adventures
by Pammy-Nosepoke
Summary: We all know Altair can't swim. Why does he hate the water? Just my idea of a possible reason. Reviews greatly appreciated!


_**So I obviously don't own Assassin's Creed, even if I wished I did. Just a little story telling why Altair hates water now. Enjoy!**_

The two boys snuck as silently through the camp as possible. The two were playing a deadly game, and they knew it. That didn't change their objective: make it to the other side of the Templar camp, steal the small flag there, and return to Masyaf without being caught. The stars glittered above, and the camp was almost completely silent.

"I can't believe we're doing this," whispered Malik. He had his arms wrapped around himself, and he was casting worried glances around the camp. Twelve-year-old Altair smiled.

"You're not scared, are you, Mal?" Malik frowned at the nickname and at Altair.

"I'm not scared," he defended. "It's cold. It's late. We have training tomorrow. We're going to be so tired, even Kadar will be able to beat us, and he just started training yesterday." He paused. "If we even make it back."

Altair huffed. "We will be fine. It's easy. All we're here for is the flag. And if we have to, we can wait a day or two before we go back to Masyaf. That way the Templars don't find us."

"Wait a day or two?" Malik exclaimed. "I have reasons to return, Altair! I have Kadar! I have training! I'm not going to risk my life for a stupid game!"

"Malik!" Altair hissed. "Be quiet! You're going to wake the entire camp with your yelling."

"I will not," growled Malik, but to his surprise Altair clamped a hand over his mouth and looked fearfully at the tent they had just passed.

"Altair!" said Malik angrily from behind the other boy's hand. "Let me g-" His voice cut off as a Templar emerged from the tent in front of the boys. Three pairs of eyes widened in shock. Altair and Malik froze in fear, staring at the Templar with terrified expressions. Altair's hand fell away from Malik's face as the Templar drew his sword.

"Run!" cried Malik. Altair didn't hesitate. The duo turned and fled through the camp, their boots scarcely touching the dirt. The sound of pounding footsteps awoke the other Templars, and before the young novices could escape the camp, nearly every Templar was after them.

"We have to split up!" shouted Altair breathlessly. Malik threw him an incredulous look.

"We can't! If one of us is caught, he will never live! We must stay together," argued Malik. They turned left and ran up a new row of tents. Altair shook his head.

"They are older, faster, more trained. If we split up, they will be forced to divide themselves. We will make it!" An arrow split the air between the boys' faces, so close that both felt the wind from it's passing. Malik's face was a mirror of Altair's horror and panic.

"You take left!" panted Malik, and he peeled to the right, down a path between tent rows. Altair growled and jerked left, in the opposite direction. He sprinted, winding down a path of his own making so complicated he was soon lost. In minutes the young novice was sucking air, an agonizing stitch burning in his side. Behind him, the Templars were gaining ground. Ahead, there was nothing but a maze of beige tents. He rounded a corner, and suddenly a wall twice Altair's height loomed before him.

He didn't hesitate; he scrambled up the wall and jumped over to the other side. It was a mistake.

Altair twisted in the air, trying to get a hold on the wall. Below him was water, deep and black, and it stretched on for miles. It was a lake; the Templars had built their camp on possibly the only lake anywhere near Masyaf.

Altair's fingers grazed the wall for an instant before his momentum carried him forward and he plummeted into the water. Icy blackness engulfed him, and Altair couldn't tell which way was up. His heart raced with panic. His screaming lungs expanded involuntary and frigid water surged into the boy's lungs. He flailed his arms and legs trying to swim. Suddenly his head broke the surface, and Altair gasped for air and coughed violently. To his horror, he quickly sank back down into the water, the freezing liquid slowly dragging him away from the precious air. Altair was helpless, and he knew it; he was going to die, painfully, slowly drowning. He gasped involuntarily, and icy water filled his burning lungs again. Altair lost all his strength, and he felt the last breath of air leave his lungs. The last thing he saw was an explosion in the water above him, and his eyes drifted closed.

Coughing. Pain. Cold. Wet. Darkness. Altair was disoriented. His thoughts whirred in his head, slippery, and suddenly he had something to hold on to.

"Come on, Altair!" a voice pleaded beside him. Something struck his chest, sending painful shockwaves through his aching lungs. "Please! Don't die! You have to breathe! You have to, you have to!" Something hit his chest again, harder, and Altair felt the muscles contract weakly. His thoughts turned fuzzy, and he wondered if he was dying.

"Come on! Breathe!" the voice begged desperately. "You said we would be fine. You said we would make it. Prove it, Altair! Breathe! Don't die, please! Don't die, don't die, don't die…" The voice sobbed, and something thudded on Altair's chest, the hardest hit yet, and the muscles around his chest contracted painfully, sending water gushing from his mouth. He twisted his upper body to the side, away from the voice, propped himself on his felt elbow, and coughed violently. The voice cried out in joy. Someone pounded his back, helping to eventually expel the last of the water from Altair's body. Altair collapsed onto his back again, and looked to his right. Malik sat next to him, drenched, wiping new wetness from his eyes and cheeks.

"Altair!" he cheered, his face breaking into a wide grin. "You're alive! I thought you were dead! I pulled you from the water and you were so still and pale and heavy and when I got you to shore you wouldn't breathe and I thought I had found you too late and-"

"How did you find me?" croaked Altair, running a hand over his face.

"I didn't get to far away from you while we were running. If you got into trouble I could come help, and vice versa. I heard a splash in your direction, and I knew you couldn't swim, so I ran to save you. You were just floating in the water. I was afraid you were…" Malik left the sentence hanging. Altair wiped his face again. He felt guilty for not thinking of Malik as his friend had obviously done for him.

Standing, Malik said, "Come on, Alt. We have to go back to Masyaf. It's getting close to sunrise." He offered the other boy a hand. Altair gripped it thankfully and stood. He was trembling from the cold and his near drowning. Malik saw and offered him a blanket.

"Where did you get this?" Altair asked, his voice gravelly. Malik shrugged.

"A certain merchant was not going to miss two blankets I happened to steal on the way here." Altair stared at his friend in admiration and accepted the blanket happily. The two boys draped their blankets over their shoulders, huddled together, and walked towards the Assassin fortress.

Al Mualim watched the two young novices sneak back into the fortress, the sunrise just starting to fade the east from black to gray to pink, streaking the sky with color. They had obviously had some very interesting adventures last night. He crossed his arms and smiled gently at the two small figures that were scrambling back into the novice quarters.

"Rauf," he called softly. He heard the younger man _hmm?_ softly from the library below and then climb the stairs to speak. Al Mualim turned from his window.

"Master?" Rauf asked, bowing his head in acknowledgement.

"I have something to ask of you today in your training duties, Rauf. Do you know Altair Ibn La' Ahad and Malik Al-Sayf?"

Rauf nodded. "Yes, Master. They have shown much promise, especially the Ibn La' Ahad boy."

"Test them today. Be hard on them. Give them challenging sparring partners. Do not be too rough, but make sure they will be tired at the end of the day." Rauf's face crinkled behind his mask into what Al Mualim knew was a knowing smile.

"More novice adventures?" he asked. Al Mualim nodded, a smile playing around on his features.

"When will the novices ever learn?" Rauf chuckled. Al Mualim nodded again, the almost-smile still on his face.

"Go, Rauf. Be well rested for the day to come. You may need it." Rauf bowed his head again and left, chuckling again.

_**Thanks for reading! Read and review, please :3**_


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